


Something Borrowed

by ireneadlers



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireneadlers/pseuds/ireneadlers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy is invited to a wedding in England and is told not to show her face if she's not going to bring a "handsome date". </p><p>Luckily, Jack Thompson rises to the occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am ashamed that I received this prompt ages ago (no, literally ages!) and I haven't written anything for it until now. 
> 
> I think we're all in need of some tropes after that season finale so I hope you enjoy my little tropeshow ;)
> 
> I have no idea how long this will be, at the moment I'm about 3.500 words in, but depending on how inspired I am, it shouldn't get longer than a couple of chapters at most.

“Bollocks!”

Peggy had a problem. A big, fat, humongous problem. Well, in reality her problem weighed about 120 pounds and responded to the name Patricia, but it - or rather, she - remained a problem nonetheless. 

Which, of course, Jack Thompson could not have known, to his credit.

“What’s got your knickers all in a twist, Marge?” he taunted, perfectly aware of how much she hated that blasted nickname. 

“Well, not that it’s any of your concern who or what-”

She should have accounted for all the giggling and whistling that commenced a heartbeat after the words left her mouth, after all, she’d been working at the New Yorker SSR for quite some time now - granted, interrupted by a vacation in which she explored her relationship with Daniel. She raised her voice and continued:

“- has got my ‘knickers in a twist’, as you so eloquently inquired, but if you must know, I am supposed to attend a dear friend’s wedding in England, and she said I should - and I quote - ‘bring a handsome date or else’.” 

“So, what’s the problem, then? Just bring Sousa.”

Peggy shot him a look somewhere between angry, confused and sad, and made sure to pack her next words with plenty of sarcasm.

“See, that’s a funny suggestion, because now that you mention it, I’m sure he didn’t mean it when he said he thought we were headed in different directions after all, just because I don’t want to get married or have kids anytime soon.” 

“Oh, shit, Marge, I didn’t know...”

“Yes, well, now the whole SSR knows, so at least I ripped off the band aid all at once.”

Was her mind playing tricks on her or did Jack actually seem sincere? No, it couldn’t be. Although he had changed for the better lately. He even gave her the lead on some bigger missions in New York these days. Either way, she couldn’t stand the pitying looks, and the gossiping that had started pretty much momentarily, so she got up resolutely and made a beeline for the training room to blow off some steam. 

* * *

 

Her mind wouldn’t stop reeling. 

_“Of course he’d end it if she’s not willing to give up her career!”_ PUNCH.

_“What kind of shrew doesn’t want kids?”_ PUNCH.

_“She’s done good work, true, but don’t you think it’s time for her to settle down now?”_ PUNCH. PUNCH. PUNCH.

Her knuckles were hurting, her heart was racing, and yet exercise didn’t seem to provide the same calming effect that it normally had on her. She didn’t usually get this riled up over chauvinist comments as she was confronted with them daily, but the thought of being seen as some kind of cooking automaton and...  _walking incubator_  riled her more than usual. 

She was in the middle of another series of rapid, powerful stabs aimed at the punching bag when the door opened and Jack Thompson entered. 

“I don’t mean to discourage you because I’m about twenty percent sure that punching bag looked at you funny, but don’t you think one and a half hours are quite enough?”

One and a half hours? She had spent one and a half hours beating the crap out of that useless piece of exercise equipment?

“Unless you’re here to tell me that we have a promising lead on one of Howard’s inventions, I suggest you leave, otherwise I might mistake your face for a punching bag.”

He seemed to bite back a laugh at her anger, and then he got that look that she had learned to interpret as an indicator of his plotting something, most likely her demise.

“Feisty. You know what, I have a proposal for you-”

“Thank you, but no thank you. I have had my fair share of proposals” she snapped.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He put his hands up in defense. “We’ll spar. I could use the practice in hand-to-hand and you apparently need to do something _physical_ ,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “You win, I’ll give you the lead on every major case to come in for the next three months.”

Now, where was the catch?

“I’m listening. What’s my forfeit?”

“You lose, I accompany you to that wedding. As you can see, it’s actually a win-win-situation for you-”

“Are you mad?” 

Peggy could not believe it, the  _nerve_ this man possessed was truly amazing.

“For wanting to give up perfectly fine cases? Probably.”

“Agent Thompson, you forget that you’d be doing me a favor if you lose-”

“Are you kidding? To see you suffer through hours and hours and hours of pointless talk about clothes and casseroles is among the top three on my bucket list.” 

“It shouldn’t even be a subject of discussion, because, well, I don’t lose.”

The statistics were firmly on her side. Out of the few times she had actually fought Jack, she had bested him almost just as many times. There had been a couple of unlucky sparring matches, but other than that, she felt more than confident. 

“Cocky much?” he grinned, evidently more than ready to prove the opposite. 

“Let’s put it to the test then,” she said, re-tying her hair as it had come a little loose during her vigorous exercise.

At least she was already warmed up, she thought with a shrug and looked up only realize in alarm that Jack Thompson was for some reason undressing.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice a little shriller than it should have been.

 “I’m taking off my shirt so it doesn’t get sweaty?” he answered, seeming genuinely confused as to why she was making a big deal out of this.

“Yes… Right. Makes sense.”

Peggy wished the gods would take her there and then. Why on earth was she getting flustered like a schoolgirl by the prospect of a potentially shirtless Jack Thompson? It wasn’t like she’d never seen a naked man before.

As if sensing her thoughts, he kept his wifebeater and pants on and got into combat stance.

After some moments of cycling each other at first, Peggy saw him going for her left side and reacted swiftly; his punch was rendered useless by her sidestepping it and the momentum threw him off balance momentarily, though not enough for Peggy to end their match just yet. They traded punches like that for a while, neither landing any big blows, until Peggy saw a significant opening in his defense as he tried to place a right hook right under her jaw. Realizing too late that it was a feint, she didn’t think to guard her legs while in offense mode, and literally was swept off her feet by Thompson.

She did not give up without a fight though, and took him with her, which only succeeded in him tumbling on top of her in an uncoordinated mess of limbs and basically crushing her beneath his weight. Jack made the most of the situation momentarily by trapping her between his thighs and catching her wrists – which she did not make easy on him, either.

At this point, she logically knew that resistance was futile, Jack had a mere weight advantage over her, and she was aware that her own advantages – speed, creativity and technique – were lost on a situation such as this one.

But yet, she was Peggy Carter and she refused to make it easy for him. She attempted playing dirty, but her knee wouldn’t reach his crotch – or anything else, for that matter – and so she settled for relentlessly wiggling beneath him and trying to throw him off her thighs by bucking her hips.

At first he seemed confused, until slowly, horror dawned on his face and he clamped down on her thighs even more in order to make her stop moving.

“Stop moving, goddamn it, woman! Just accept defeat!”

“Never!” she hissed, her eyes narrow. She was still breathing hard, her chest heaving, and just to piss him off, she gave it another experimental wiggle and –

“Oh,” she whispered, so softly that she didn’t know whether he had even heard, but the realization must have dawned on her face either way.

The feeling of what was certainly _not_ a weapon pressed against her leg made her feel a mixture of emotions, and the one she was supposed to feel, disgust, was not among them. Most of all, she was confused, then she was amused, and lastly, maybe a tiny little bit proud and aroused.

Impossibly, her breath got even shallower and – was Thompson leaning in?

She steeled herself for whatever was about to happen, but she was not prepared for him to whisper in her ear: “I win.”

His breath was tickling the shell of her ear and it certainly did _not_ send shivers down her spine, thank you very much.

“Fine. I leave on Friday at 8 am. Be punctual.”

And with what dignity she had remaining, she used herculean strength to throw him off her, made for the door, making sure to sway her hips a little extra.

“You do realize that this means you’ve basically admitted you think I’m handsome, don’t you?”

His answer was the door being so violently thrown in his face that he feared for the glass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you who took the time to leave a few words! It honestly means the world, even if it's just a short "I liked this", it motivates me a lot. 
> 
> I actually resolved to wait a little longer to post this, but since I already have almost another chapter written, I do feel like it's okay to post (and positive feedback is so addictive too!). 
> 
> Without further ado, here it goes!

Peggy could not believe it.

And by that she meant she could not believe how pleasantly surprised she was.

In all honesty, she had dreaded the flight for the entirety of the one and a half days that had at the point of their sparring match remained until Operation “Housewife” was a go.

During Thursday’s quiet evening shift, they had roughly mapped out their story, but she had witnessed Jack undercover, so once they had made up a believable enough meet-cute she knew he wouldn’t slip up and out her as both a fraud _and_ an agent. In regards to this, it was probably a good thing she went with him in lack of a proper “handsome” boyfriend, because at least he had experience keeping secrets and pretending to be someone he was not.

However, she didn’t appreciate his snarky comments, per se, but she had gotten used to them; plus, they seemed almost half-hearted lately – more for the sake of bantering than hurting her. For some reason it reminded her of her brother, and the thought sent a stab through her heart.

Michael would hate the thought of her bowing to peer pressure, she contemplated as she stared out of the plane’s window.

Really, it was ridiculous to think that she needed to bring a date, but there are so only so many ways a person can break with the main stream until they themselves break.

Her mind moving on to more amusing topics, she thought about how delighted Patricia would be when she’d introduce her to Jack – she had always had a thing for blondes, even in school. Ironically, she was now getting married to quite the Latino.

A smile tugged at the corners of Peggy’s mouth. Funny how things worked out sometimes.

With a sigh, she tore her gaze from the fluffy clouds and looked at Jack, who was currently shutting out the world with a newspaper that might as well have been a small curtain were it not for the articles and photos.

“Jack?”

“Yes, my dear?” he answered, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.

Peggy rolled her eyes. „I was about to propose setting up some rules, so thank you very much for providing inspiration for the first one: No pet names unless we’re around the wedding guests.”

“But honey…” he started to tease, grinning. “How am I supposed to stay in character, then?”

“I’m sure you will find a way.” If she had to keep rolling her eyes at this rate, they would get stuck by the time they arrived in London.

“Second rule: We are not sleeping in the same bed under any circumstances. Furthermore, we are not kiss more than absolutely necessary to make a convincing couple. Are we clear?”

“I don’t think you realize I am paying my half of the accommodation, so I feel like I absolutely deserve to sleep in the bed. If you don’t wanna share, be my guest, you can always sleep on the sofa, but I ain’t breaking my back for you, sweetheart.”

Peggy glared daggers at him while trying to remind herself that she needed to stay on his good side. After all, he could expose her any second and thus foil their carefully crafted plan.

“We shall make further arrangements once we see what we’re dealing with, I suppose,” she sighed. She absolutely loathed not being able to plan.

“What is the schedule, anyway? And where are we going, precisely? London is a pretty broad term,” Jack asked interestedly.

“Upon our arrival in London at 8 pm, I reckon, we’re getting picked up by Patricia’s driver who will take us to Hever Castle. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it, but it’s a rather beautiful location out in the countryside. It has a wild charm. Patricia actually said that she reserved rooms for everybody who RSVP-ed in a timely manner, and we will all be staying in different bed-and-breakfasts in the vicinity of the castle.”

As she remembered the beautiful location from trips in her childhood, she wished she could have shared all those places with Steve, and sadness gripped her briefly. She decided not to dwell on it for too long and realized that Jack had been talking to her.

 “Pardon me, I got lost in thought, what were you saying?”

“I was just asking whether you had been there before, from the way you were talking it seemed like it.”

And so she started telling him about how her grandparents had taken them around the English countryside when her parents were busy, and about that one time when they’d left for Stonehenge despite it being a gloomy day, only to be rewarded with one of the most beautiful sunsets she’d ever witnessed.

The conversation flowed so naturally between the two of them that she was almost sorry when the stewardess announced that they would soon be landing.

* * *

After a queue that seemed to have no ending at immigration and customs, they found their driver, Mr. Chives, in no time and soon were en route to Hever. The driver and Peggy pointed out some notable sights on the way, and Peggy enjoyed being back on home soil. She loved America, but something about England made her heart sing whenever she returned, although the fact that Brits knew how to properly pronounce words probably played a pretty significant role in that, as well.

With the last rays of the sun just disappearing on the horizon, they pulled into the driveway of what Mr. Chives identified as their bed and breakfast. He remarked that the lady only had one guest room, so they wouldn’t be sharing with anyone, and that he would be back to pick the both of them up at noon the next day.

The house was picturesque, with ivy clinging to the stone walls and a front yard complete with a small vegetable garden. It made her feel instantly warm and welcome, and Peggy regretted not being able to take more than a weekend off work.

While she had marveled at the house, Jack had made himself useful and gotten their bags from the car – under the protests of the driver, who reminded her of Jarvis a lot.

With a look at Jack, she said: “Well, let’s go in, then.”

* * *

Exactly forty-seven minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, she collapsed onto the bed with a heartfelt sigh.

With this annoying grin of his, Jack remarked: “That one’s a bit of talker, isn’t she?”

“That must be the understatement of the century.” Peggy’s eyes were closed and she was massaging her temples. After almost an entire day of travel, Mrs. Branwell’s well-intended small talk wasn’t much appreciated by either one of them, although Jack seemed to handle the onslaught of words way better than her. Admittedly, he had been rather charming and swept the old lady right off her feet: So much so that Peggy wondered if she had even registered her standing next to him.

“In all honesty, she reminds me of my Gam-Gam,” he noted, shrugging, with a fond smile. “You just gotta humor them, because if you don’t, the next talk will be ten times worse. Plus, I might have scored us free dessert.”

“Gre-uuuuh-eat,” said Peggy, fighting a losing battle to the yawn. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get to bed, I am absolutely knackered.”

“Right, have fun sleeping in the bathtub!” Jack said jovially, throwing himself onto the other side of the bed with just enough force for it to be utterly obnoxious. How Jack could be so dreadfully cheerful after not having slept in over twenty-four hours was honestly beyond her.

They did have an en-suite washroom, thankfully, but other than that, the room was tiny and just about fit the double bed, a wardrobe and a chair, which put them in a bit of a pickle.

“Fine, we’ll have to share, I suppose. Unless you’d rather take the floor?” she asked, hopefully.

“Nah. But if you want to, suit yourself!”

He had crossed his legs at his ankles, and was supporting his head in his arms, and his entire posture just screamed “I am purposely being annoying”, but Peggy decided that she was too exhausted for his games, so she just took her things and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Thankfully, she had packed her most sensible nightdress, but she refused to be hot in her sleep, so it was still silk. After changing out of her day clothes, she rudimentarily freshened up by washing her make-up off and touching upon the more stinky parts of her, like her armpits, but she didn’t feel like even further postponing her bedtime by taking a bath.

As she brushed her teeth, she pondered the fact that she’d be sharing a bed – and, even worse, a _blanket_ – with Jack Thompson of all people for the next two nights. Who would have ever predicted that on her first day of work? Certainly not her, she thought bemusedly.

When she was finished, she moved to exit the bathroom, but changed her mind and put on her bathrobe first. No need to get more personal than strictly necessary, she thought as she re-entered their shared room.

She promptly had to try and stifle a laugh. Jack had fallen asleep in the meantime and was dribbling on his pillow. At her giggles, he started, sat up and wiped his mouth.

“I’ll be right with you, boo,” he said suggestively as he headed to the bathroom himself. “Oh, and I like to sleep in the nude, I hope you don’t mind.”

“WHAT DID WE AGREE TO?” she yelled after him, not even gracing the second commend with a response. She would have to live with his stupid pet names for the duration of this stay, but she would not give into his suggestive remarks.

She turned down the lights and settled into the bed, hoping that she’d be out cold by the time Jack returned from the bathroom, but to no avail. Maybe the prospect of him sleeping next to her made her more uncomfortable than she’d accounted for.

Much too soon, he came out of the bathroom – thankfully clothed in a wifebeater and some loose pajama pants – and slid under the covers himself. Peggy turned off her nightstand lamp and thusly rendered the room completely dark.

“Good night, Jack.”

“G’night, Peggy.”

But although the bed was comfortable, the temperature in the room was neither too cold nor too hot, and the blanket was perfect, she felt off somehow. So she turned from her back to her left side, facing away from Jack.

“You’re a cover hoarder, aren’t you? Want my pillow too?” he mumbled, tugging back the part of the covers that she’d unintentionally ripped away from him.

So she returned to her previous position on her back, but it brought her closer to Jack – not quite close enough to touch, but she could feel the warmth radiating off him, and it made her hold her breath for an instant.

Unbidden, the memory of him straddling her to hold her down rose to the surface, and she recalled how he’d leaned in and how his breath had sent shivers down her spine.

It must be a simple reaction to being in such close proximity again, she told herself in vain as she took note of the goosebumps that were rising on her arms.

But as she listened to his breaths, they didn’t resemble the deep, calm ones of a sleeping person either. It seemed he was just as restless as she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you liked it, and feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> (Also speculation, you may yet inspire me :D)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to thank everybody who has waited around patiently for this chapter. I wish I had a better excuse than "life got in the way" but... I don't. All I can say is that it's been crazy; between moving, Uni starting again full swing, and my vacation in Italy, I didn't have many chances to write. But here it is, FINALLY!
> 
> Secondly, thank you to everyone who took the time to leave kudos and comments, I get giggly everytime I receive a notification email from ao3 because I just cannot believe that people actually like this silly little thing I'm writing here. 
> 
> Thirdly, this was finished in a bit of a hurry so I could finally update, so if there are any mistakes or something sounds a little strange you can leave it in the comments down below and I'll fix it!

Peggy woke up to blinding rays of sunlight hitting her face. Even though she was perfectly rested, the desire to pull her blanket over her head and go back to sleep for just a few minutes was strong, but she forced herself to sit up and rub her eyes despite herself.

First, she looked at the clock: It was half past nine. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of getting up this late – she liked to keep as steady a rhythm as possible, because her work schedule was already chaotic enough.

Jack was still fast asleep on the right side of the bed, looking more peaceful than she had ever seen him in her years at the SSR.

She marveled at how sleep managed to wipe any tension from his face, leaving it relaxed and blank, void of his usual mocking smirk and the raised eyebrows.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she thought that he might yet find a girlfriend if he’d look like that more often during his waking hours; it made him decidedly more attractive. Not that he was bad looking, quite the opposite, actually.

As if reading her mind, he chose this moment to flutter his eyes open, blinking dazedly as he was trying to orient himself.

“Breakfast?” suggested Peggy cheerfully, before he had the chance to crack a joke about her gazing at him lovingly.

“Yeah. I’m starving,” he replied, his voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

They hadn’t eaten since they were served dinner on the plane the previous day, and Peggy was looking forward to some British goodness. She was curious how Jack was going to react to being served baked beans for breakfast.

* * *

 

He was not.

Going to react, that is.

“Good morning, my dears! Now, in honor of Jack – I may call you Jack, right, sweetie? – here visiting England for the first time,” they had decided to let the landlady fill in the gaps for herself, saving them the trouble of coming up with explanations themselves, “I’ve decided to try my hand at an American style breakfast. Peggy, love, I hope you don’t mind, I’ll make you a full English breakfast tomorrow, alright? Now, who wants some pancakes?”

As Peggy and Jack sat down at the table, she rushed into the kitchen.

“Coffee and tea is on the table, if you’d like anything else, just holler at me!” she yelled back at them while she was bustling about the kitchen.

Peggy shot Jack an annoyed glare, to which he responded with a nonchalant shrug and a smug smirk.

“She obviously likes me better,” he whispered, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Sue me for wanting a normal breakfast after all those months in America,” she mumbled.

Mrs. Branwell chose this moment to return with pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and even sausages.

“Now, don’t you dare get up from this table before you’ve eaten all of this,” she said, raising her index finger. “You must be starving; the portions they serve on airplanes are probably enough for a ten-year-old, but not for a strong man and a grown woman like yourselves!”

* * *

 

Two hours and copious amounts of food later, they picked up by Mr. Chives for the first gathering of the weekend.

As they approached the castle, Peggy noted that it had already been decorated tastefully, there was a lot of white and bouquets of roses, and it all blended in rather nicely with the majestic stone walls.

Small groups of people were chatting merrily; thankfully, none of them were wearing fancy clothing, as Peggy hadn’t been sure whether to dress up. She immediately recognized the largest circle as the one Patricia was entertaining, and it was so fitting that she just had to grin: Her friend had always liked being the center of attention, constantly stealing the thunder of her shier friends.

Peggy herself had never been particularly bothered by that, as she preferred observing and the occasional chat to having to talk nonstop, but she knew for a fact that it had inspired hatred in some during their school days.

The car came to a halt, and Peggy got out of the car, carefully placing her feet on the gravel so as not to sink in with her heels.

She was wearing a cheerful, bright outfit for the occasion; her shoes were classic white pumps with a sensible yet noticeable heel; her light green skirt was paired tastefully with a white blouse, both of which were flattering her curves nicely without being too revealing. Her hair framed her face in flawless curls, and round white sunglasses and her signature red lipstick completed the look.

“PEGGY!!! Oh my God, you look positively GORGEOUS!” she heard before she was attacked by a hug that nearly knocked her over.

“Hello to you too, Patricia,” she said, chuckling, hugging her back firmly.

“I didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I said you had to bring a date, but well done!” Patricia whispered into her ear approvingly. “He’s very handsome indeed.”

They broke apart, and Peggy started properly introducing Jack and Patricia.

“Jack, this is Patricia, my dear friend. Patricia, Jack, my boyfriend.”

Peggy had to hand it to him: Jack knew how to wrap women around his finger with ease, and he had definitely learned some manners in his upbringing. Maybe he had to thank his “Gam-Gam” for that.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Patricia, I’ve heard so much about you!” he said, shaking her hand.

“Have you now? Did Peggy by any chance also tell you all the times she was responsible for our mischief and then wouldn’t take the fall?” Patricia asked with a wink.

Peggy rolled her eyes: “It was one time, Patricia. One time!”

Jack put his arm around Peggy, causing her to stiffen momentarily in surprise, but she immediately caught herself and relaxed.

“Don’t surprise me, to be honest. She can be quite mischievous, that one, right, Pegs?”

He was clearly alluding to all the times that she had ignored his command when she, strictly speaking, shouldn’t have because he was her superior, whereas to the unassuming Patricia, it probably sounded like innuendo.  

“Though, Patricia, if you care to tell me that story some time, I’d love to hear,” he stage-whispered conspiratorially.

“I do believe that is quite enough, honey, thank you very much,” said Peggy, taking his hand and squeezing it a little harder than strictly necessary.

There was no way in hell she’d have Jack and Patricia swapping stories anytime soon, the potential for embarrassment was off the charts between those two.

“Anyway, I should attend to my other guests, as well. Just to fill you in on the agenda a little: For now, we’ll just be waiting for everybody to show, pretty much, and then we’ll have some fun playing games and chatting in the castle gardens, but tonight at eight we’re starting the hen night and stag party. There’s going to be a lot of alcohol involved, so Jack, I do hope you can hold your liquor. I already know my dear Peg here can. The wedding is to take place at eleven tomorrow, and the reception has an open ending so unless you have to leave tomorrow night I suggest you both make the most of it. It’ll be so much fun!”

Peggy marveled at how she had not taken a breath, and just nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“We won’t hold you up any longer, Patty, go talk to your other guests for a while!”

“Yes, right. You can have some sandwiches in the meantime or something!”

“Oh, no, believe me, we’re not hungry,” said Jack, looking downright disgusted at the mention of even more food.

Patricia giggled. “Oh yes, that’s right, you’re the lucky souls that live with Mrs. Branwell. Isn’t she just adorable? Either way, I shall see you around!”

* * *

 

Peggy and Jack mostly spent the afternoon repeating that conversation with minor changes to the script. Each and every one of Peggy’s girlfriends insisted on how charming and nice Jack was and that they were happy for the both of them, and while Peggy didn’t have a problem with that per se, she did wonder whether she had misjudged Jack’s character severely or whether he was simply that good an actor. 

The organization of the afternoon also made it clear for Peggy why coming without a date would be depressing at best: Everything was designed for couples, starting from charades to the badminton tournament.

Since Peggy was wearing heels and also spectacularly bad at any sport involving a racket, she decided to skip that activity in favor of the “Clue” table, which was ironic considering her line of work. Even more ironic was the fact that Jack beat her every single time, which was annoying enough of itself, but he also decided to gloat quite a bit, which caused her to be tremendously relieved when the hour of splitting up the stags and the hens finally came around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and as always, I love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, this is awkward. I never actually posted this because stuff happened (as in law school, oops), BUT I did have this chapter pre-written, and since I feel pretty bad for just leaving everyone hanging, here's an update, I guess?
> 
> Special shout-out to Jenn for commenting on this story after that long ass time x

“Trust me, I can do this!” Peggy yelled, trying to pick the lock of the already-closed bar.

After missing the keyhole a couple of times and not even getting close to unlocking the door, she had to admit to herself that she might be a tiny little bit tipsy, and that the probability of her unlocking that door before the neighbors would notice them was slim to none.

“Fine, I guess we’ll have to make do with the bourbon in my flask then,” she sighed, and pulled precisely that out of her purse.

Patricia laughed whole-heartedly and took a generous gulp. “I shouldn’t be surprised you brought a flask of bourbon to my wedding, but I keep forgetting how… special you are.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean then, Patty?” she replied indignantly, sitting down on a bench at the side of the road clumsily.

Patty held up her hands in defense. “Nothing in particular, Peggy, calm down. It’s just… you’ve always had an unorthodox way of going about things, and I’m glad you found someone who sees you for who you are, because I truly believe that Jack does, you know?”

There was a chorus of approving murmurs from the rest of them.

“So, now that it’s just us girls, tell me about him,” prompted Patricia, shooting her an expectant look.

Peggy looked at the hands that were folded in her lap, and tried to find an appropriate response somewhere in her alcohol-befuddled brain without slipping up on their cover story.

“At first, I hated him,” there were some laughs; apparently they thought she was joking. “No, I really did hate him. It took me over a year and countless miss- _assignments_ to just tolerate his presence, and not answering to everything in witty comebacks was a true challenge because I just could not for the life of me take him seriously.”

Somehow, the thought of Jack had brought upon a strange sort of clarity; although everything else was bathed in a bourbon-induced haze, her sentiment toward Jack Thompson had never been clearer.

“I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly we were friends, and then… something more. It took us both a while to notice, I think, because it happened so gradually. One evening, it seemed like he was trying to ask me something, but he was stuttering – to tell you the truth, it was adorable,” she smiled, imagining the scenario, “and, well, I made fun of his stuttering for so long that he got angrier and angrier and just blurted out ‘Can you just shut up for like FIVE SECONDS so I can ask you on a FUCKING date’.”

There was collective “awwww”-ing and some gasps and giggles.

“Well, the rest is history, pretty much. We make an unlikely pair, but I feel like he sees the worst of me and still loves me all the more because of my flaws, so I honestly could not ask for more.”

_Well, shite._                                                          

* * *

 

„So, Jack, how on earth did you manage to tame the shrew? Share your secrets, mate!”

John punched him in the arm and Jack laughed a little too loudly. He was _definitely_ going to regret those last five drinks tomorrow, but at that moment, it was bliss.

“Well, in all honesty, as much as I wish I could claim that victory, I’m afraid I can’t. I guess she just saw somethin’ she liked and went for it.”

“Oh, you’ve got to give me more than that! No way in hell it went down like that!”

John saluted him with his glass before downing the rest of it. Come to think of it, _John_ was definitely going to feel this tomorrow, as well.

“Alright, I guess I did my part, but I’ve never met a woman like that. She infuriated me in the beginning, with her impertinence, but damn, that woman’s got talent-“ there was laughter and a catcall, the other men undoubtedly assuming it was some kind of innuendo when he was really talking about the fact that Peggy was fluent in four languages, amongst other things, “and, well, when I finally got over her no-nonsense approach to things, I just had an epiphany one day. Granted, it took me about two months to muster the courage to ask her out, because, well… you know Peggy, she can be handful for sure.”

 “Especially towards men who want to date her!”

“Yeah. What fascinates me the most is her complexity, I guess. She’s not perfect in any way, but then again, I ain’t perfect either, and her flaws are what makes her so special.”

He stared into his glass of bourbon, swirling the ice around, trying to make sense of what he’d just said, and more importantly, if he’d meant all those things. He decided to postpone the decision until his mind was clearer; in a dark corner in the back of his mind, an alarm was ringing at the mere fact that he’d decided to accompany Peggy here _because_ _of reasons_.

In order to drown out the sound of realization, he downed his glass of bourbon whilst already signaling the server for another.

* * *

Countless drinks, at least five dumb party games and many a drunken confession later, Peggy was on her way home at last.

She was embarrassed to have to admit that she’d probably walked a little straighter before this entire ordeal, and the impulse to do something stupid, like sing “My Bonnie” at the top of her lungs, was overwhelming.  Nevertheless, she gathered all the discipline learned in English boarding schools and managed to keep it together until somehow, miraculously, she had made it into the house with only one minor incident involving her pumps and five tries inserting the key into the keyhole.

She was cursing like a sailor under her breath trying to repeat that entire key maneuver with their room, when it suddenly opened from the inside and Jack was standing in front of her.

“Would you keep it down a little?” he hissed, pulling Peggy inside and carefully shutting the door. To Peggy, he seemed rather sober considering he’d just come from a stag night.

“S-shouldn’t you be dru-unker?” she hiccupped, repeatedly stabbing him in the chest with her finger. “I’s not fai-air, y’know. If I’m going t-to feel like sh-shite tomorrow, you ha-ave to, too.”

“Trust me, Peggy, I’m far from sober. I’m just not as hammered as you are,” he said, and that stupid smirk of his was back, mocking her along with the glint in his eyes.

She glared at him, though her authority was slightly undermined by her continued hiccups, and generally, she was getting more and more angry at her body for betraying her by the minute.

She was supposed to be able to out-drink an army, for God’s sake.

Indignantly, she tried to stomp away from him, shooting him another glare for good measure. She didn’t get far, however, for suddenly her right food slid away from under her and she found herself flying backwards – into the arms of Jack Thompson?

Her brain needed a minute to register. First of all, she examined the culprit: Of course it had to be Jack’s dress shirt, did that man always just drop everything when it suited him?

She rolled her eyes.

Secondly, Jack had caught her, very similarly to a trust fall, which left her in weird limbo between standing and sitting on the floor.

Thirdly, his hands underneath her armpit were grazing the sides of her breast and the hair on her body was rising and – was she enjoying this? She must be drunker than she’d previously assumed.

 “Um, if you could either drop me or pick me up now, that’d be great,” she said, noticing that her voice came out breathy. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath.

Jack pulled her to her feet gently and turned her to face him afterwards.

His face was unguarded, and it looked almost as peaceful as it had during his sleep; the only difference was that in his eyes, there was something else, and the mixture hit her like a ton of bricks.

There was yearning there, so raw she wondered if he thought he was dreaming – he could not possibly... ? Motionless, she watched as he raised his hand; petrified she stood, her lips slightly parting as she took in a shaky breath, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing the skin of her cheek and the shell of her ear in process and setting off goosebumps all over her body.

It was so innocent a touch, yet it shook her right at her core in its intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this ends on a pretty evil cliffhanger (hehe). I actually do want to continue this story now that I read it back, I'm pretty confident that I can do it, too, however, I'm not making any promises. (Famous last words and all that.)
> 
> Just... watch this space, okay? Love you if you're still interested in this story, truly means the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration really did strike and I chose to go with it. I'm like two more chapters in, so I feel comfortable posting this. Enjoy!

After standing frozen like a deer in the headlights seemingly for an eternity, Peggy drew a shaky breath and hastily stepped back. Her head was swimming, a whirlwind of thoughts that she couldn’t quite make sense of, so she did the only thing that seemed sensible: she grabbed her nightgown and fled to the bathroom.

* * *

Jack busied himself with changing his own clothes while Peggy was gone, not that he’d mind her seeing-

_No, that’s the bourbon speaking, keep it together, dude._

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in a while, and being in close proximity with Peggy, especially sleeping next to her, was doing things to his brain he had trouble suppressing when he was this drunk, as evidenced by his idiotic slip up earlier.

He wasn’t sure if she’d even taken note of his unusual behavior, because damn, that woman certainly was in a state not befitting a lady. Her drunkenness did little to derail his traitorous thoughts, however; if anything, she was more alluring with her lipstick slightly smeared – _as though she’d been kissed_ , a voice in his mind whispered – and her cheeks flushed.

Perhaps it should have worried him, but he decided to ponder that when he didn’t feel like his brain had been replaced by cotton candy, slipped under the covers and was fast asleep before his head touched the pillow.

* * *

 

Peggy splashed her face with ice cold water and decided to ignore every thought regarding Jack Thompson for the time being.

It was quite annoying, really, how she rarely ascended to that point of being drunk enough to start acting purely based on instinct, disregarding all thought for consequence – a state of mind most of her peers seemed to have little trouble reaching, but maybe she was just more inhibited in general. She tended to reserve reactive and quick decisions for work rather than her personal life.

Patricia lovingly called her a wuss sometimes, which was ironic considering Peggy had, amongst other things, jumped out of airplanes. Granted, Patricia did not know this. But still, she was no coward. She just didn’t like toying with her heart, especially after…

_Steve_.

She wasn’t sure how she’d wound up here, but somehow, in ignoring Jack Thompson, her mind had strayed to a place she sought to avoid even more.

As she wiped off her make-up, tears started to burn in her eyes, and resistance was futile. Soon, she was sobbing quietly, grabbing the sink, mourning both Steve and what she thought her relationship with Daniel could have been. It felt cathartic, and she noticed that Steve’s absence, while she was certain she would feel it forever, was less of a punch in the stomach now and more of a dull ache in her heart.

As for Daniel, she didn’t mourn the relationship so much as she regretted assuming he was different, that he didn’t want her to give up her identity for his sake. Daniel was certainly a nice guy, and due to his personal experience as an outcast equipped with more empathy than his colleagues, but there was just some residual expectation of her role as a female in this world that he didn’t seem to be able to give up.

She had tried to sway him in many a fevered argument, and she understood it was hard to challenge his views when this entire society assumed that they were going to get married and she was going to give up her job eventually. There just came a point where their constant discussions had started to poison the relationship, and neither of them seemed willing to give in, so, with a heavy heart, Peggy broke it off one day. Truth be told, Daniel seemed relieved that she’d bitten the bullet.

Still, it hurt to know that most men couldn’t see past a set of breasts and ovaries.

Peggy laughed quietly to herself. Only she would get pissed out of her mind and ponder her role as a female in this world.

She glanced at her wristwatch – it was almost four o’clock in the morning and the ceremony was set to take place at eleven in the morning. Plenty of time, of course, but she was going to need every minute of sleep she could get after her escapades tonight, so she decided to head to bed.

She quickly downed a glass of water to help with the headache the next morning, and prayed Jack was asleep already so that she at least wouldn’t have to deal with that fire until the morning.

She opened the door and was relieved to hear soft, regular breaths coming from the direction of the bed. Carefully, she tiptoed over to the bed and slipped under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly.

_Lips slowly, torturously, kissing up and down her neck. Hands stroking her arms, her sides, her stomach, her breasts, slowly slipping lower, and lower, and… yes, that was the spot, right there… A solid, warm body was pressed against her back, the evidence of his desire pressed against her arse, oh, it was such sweet torture…_

She whimpered softly and tried to shuffle closer, fighting awareness as she wanted to stay in the dream… and woke with a start when she realized where she was, and most importantly, whom she was with and that she had not, in fact, dreamed the body behind her. No, that was very much real. As was the arm draped across her waist.

She was spooning with Jack Thompson. That was a sentence Peggy certainly never predicted she’d ever think.

Her mind was racing, not only due to her pounding head. She couldn’t remember if the man in the dream had looked like Jack. Not that it mattered, because she didn’t want Jack like that... Plus, it was common knowledge that dreams don’t mean anything. Even if the man had been Jack, it could have simply been trigged by her increased exposure to him. There was no meaning to be attributed to the dream.

_There was no meaning to be attributed to the dream._ There was meaning to be attributed to the way her stomach dropped and her nipples hardened as she took notice of his morning wood pressing against her backside and his musky scent encompassing her, though.

_Shite. Shite. Shite._

* * *

Jack woke from semi-comatose sleep to find that not only did he have a boner, he’d also at some point during the night started spooning Peggy Carter, who was going to make him regret that if she found out. Surely it was bad enough in her book that they had to share a bed against her will, no need to add more reasons for her to be cross with him.

He needed to get his bearings and a big glass of water to combat this pounding in his head, but his train of thought was interrupted when Peggy suddenly let out a whimper, just loud enough that he couldn’t explain it away as a figment of his imagination, and started shuffling even closer.

Jack was torn between being extremely aroused and alarmed with the direction this was heading. Especially after the magnetic moment between the two of them last night he had to admit that there was something there beyond their fake relationship, but he wasn’t sure how to approach the situation, and his blood rushing away from his brain wasn’t particularly helpful.

Mercifully, Peggy stilled her movement at least, although her ass was still pressed against his crotch in the most maddening way. He wasn’t sure if she’d woken up or just stopped moving, so he decided to remain motionless until he was sure.

* * *

 

Peggy realized that Jack either wasn’t awake yet or was pretending to be asleep, she could not for the love of her tell which it was, so she decided to push her unbidden feelings aside and attend to more urgent matters, like the wedding taking place…

She sat up abruptly, throwing Jack’s arm off her, and checked her wristwatch on the nightstand.

_… in an hour, thank God._

Jack, who she suspected to have been awake all along, likely leaving her to deal with the awkwardness of the situation, rolled onto his back and slowly sat up as well. He seemed dazed as he blinked due to the bright sunlight blinding him. At least the day was shaping up to be a lovely one for a countryside wedding.

“Jesus Christ, woman, be gentle, we both have hangovers!” he complained, cradling his head in his hands.

“Oh, don’t be a baby. Drink some water, freshen up, and get over yourself. Speaking of freshening up, T minus an hour until the ceremony, we should get going stat.”

Peggy’s own head was doing a number on her now that she was in a more vertical position and her stomach was slightly queasy, but naturally, she would never admit that to Jack.

“Do you want the bathroom first or can I go ahead?”

Jack made a dismissive hand gesture, signaling that she could go first. He seemed a little off, but Peggy decided not to dwell on it. He had to be pretty hungover, and if she pondered it too long, she might have had to face the inconvenient fluttering in her stomach every time she looked at him.

Peggy got ready in a whirl. Her outfit for the wedding was a lovely pastel pink dress, complete with matching white pumps. The cherry on top was her customary hat – an extravagant white headpiece that contrasted her dark hair nicely. Of course, she could not forgo her signature red lipstick, either. With one last satisfied glance at the mirror, she returned to the bedroom.

Jack was still sitting on the bed, wiggling his leg restlessly, holding an empty glass of water and staring into the void. Upon Peggy’s entrance, he got up and grabbed his suit.

“All yours!” Peggy said cheerfully. “We have another twenty minutes until Mr. Chives is picking us up. I’ll go get some toast and a cuppa in the meantime.”

Jack mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, presumably in agreement, and moved towards the bedroom, just as Peggy took a step towards him. A couple of awkward moments and “excuse me”s  ensued in which neither of them dared to take a step.

Peggy’s exasperated “Oh, for Christ’s sake, will you just let me pass!” ended that ordeal and she exited the room to grab some breakfast. Still, it felt like the ease of the past few days had gotten lost at some point. Jack had seemed unable to meet her eyes, and if she was being honest, she had trouble meeting his, as well. Especially because each time she did, her mind kept replaying that blasted dream.

_Maybe some breakfast will set my mind straight._

Peggy felt infinitely better once she had some bread and caffeine in her system. Mrs. Branwell asked her for the umpteenth time if she really didn’t want any more breakfast, but Peggy declined politely. Impatiently, she checked her watch, hoping Jack would be ready soon – Mr Chives was supposed to be picking them up any minute.

She was reading the front page of the newspaper, her eyes quickly scanning headlines, when Mrs. Branwell exclaimed: “Oh, but don’t you look dapper!”

Jack had finally decided to grace them with his presence, and she had to admit, he did clean up nicely. He’d shaved, and she was certain his tailor had charged him quite a sum for his suit, and rightfully so – it was beautifully made, fitted in all the right places, and the black fabric looked expensive even from a distance. Altogether, he looked like a perfect gentleman.

_If only they knew what an arsehole he can be._

Fortunately, Jack was a great actor when he had to be, so it was no surprise that Mrs. Branwell seemed close to swooning. Jack on the other hand had a polite smile on his face, but his eyes were guarded.

“So handsome! And Peggy, darling, you look beautiful as well, that’s such a nice color for you! What a pair!“ she sighed. „Now, I think your car just arrived, so have a great time, but perhaps don’t drink quite as much as last night, will you?”

Both Jack and Peggy blushed slightly at that, but the old lady’s eyes were sparkling with humor as she spoke.

“Now shoo, or else you’re going to be late!”

Little did they know at the time that the entire ceremony was going to be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was to your satisfaction ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fairly short one, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. Chapter 7 is shaping up to be pretty long, so I felt like this finish was a good point for the break. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you leave a comment I'll love you forever!

Peggy’s gut told her something was off the minute they pulled up to the church. Her instinct proved to be true, as per usual. Immediately upon noticing her arrival, Patricia, all decked out in white, started running towards the car with her bridesmaids in tow.

“Thank God you’re here. I don’t quite know how to put this…”, she started, her eyes wide and her skin flushed. She seemed distraught to say the least, her eyes constantly searching the vicinity. “I think- “

“John was supposed to show up at 10:30, but he’s still not here!” one of her bridesmaids interrupted breathlessly. “I swear, we’ve looked everywhere he could possibly be. Not a trace.”

Peggy’s mind was racing. Had he gotten cold feet, left Patricia at the altar? She didn’t think so. Despite not knowing John very well, from what Patty had told her and her observations the day before, he didn’t seem the type – plus, Peggy was certain he was madly in love with Patricia. John had been gazing at her adoringly for the majority of yesterday’s activities.

“Who here last saw him?” she inquired, swiftly switching from Peggy to Agent Carter mode.

“Well, I last saw him before we got split up last night, so it would have to be one of the guys, most likely,” Patricia answered. “Jack?”

Thankfully, despite acting strange earlier, Jack was also all business right away.

“I don’t think I’m of much help here, to tell you the truth. We walked a little of the way home together. He didn’t have much further to go, though. Five to ten minutes, or, well, if you’re drunk maybe fifteen, max. So it seems unlikely that anything would have happened to him on his way home, but we can check, if you like. Other than that, you’ve checked his room, I assume?”

Patty nodded vigorously. “We’ve checked everywhere, even drove the entire way from the bar to his bed & breakfast. I’m honestly out of ideas.”

Peggy rubbed Patty’s arm in soothing circles and mentally checked all the possibilities. She’d already disregarded John getting cold feet as unlikely, and most of the other options didn’t seem obvious either, especially when her preferred one, namely that he was still sleeping off his fifteen drinks somewhere, had been thoroughly ruled out already, as it seemed. She willed Jack to look at her, but he still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

So he was still acting strangely towards her, _great_.

 “Jack, can I speak to you for a minute?” Peggy asked, and when he didn’t object, pulled him aside by his arm. Once she was certain they were out of earshot, she halted, keeping an eye on her friend to make sure she wouldn’t overhear anything. Her friend was already riled up enough as it was.

“I’m out of ideas. What’s your take on this?”

Jack seemed incredibly interested in the trees surrounding the castle as he spoke.

“John doesn’t seem the type to leave his bride waiting at the altar, when we talked yesterday he was trying very hard to pretend he minded losing his freedom or whatever, but anybody with two eyes can tell you that man is completely smitten. Hell, Carter, even I noticed that right away! I don’t think there’s any way in hell he got lost or injured on his way home, either. Now look, it’s kind of an occupational hazard that I assume the worst, but what if something happened?”

“What, he got kidnapped?” Peggy had trouble seriously considering this option. This was an English countryside wedding, not high-profile mafia business.

“Listen, I know it sounds crazy, and by God, I sure hope it’s not true. But when we were a few drinks in, he shared some interesting facts about his inheritance and from what I heard, it’s… substantive.”

Finally, his gaze settled on her, although he still looked somewhat detached.

“How did I not know this, and I call myself an agent - don’t comment on that. Well, that certainly provides motive, but I still don’t think we should go there just yet. Let’s just check his room again. In my experience you usually find misplaced items exactly where you’re convinced that they’re not.”

“Fine.” He looked over his shoulder at Patricia. “Let’s run over there real quick and then we’ll see.”

Peggy discreetly signaled Mr. Chives who had taken on the role of comforting Patty that they were leaving, and when she got a confirming nod from him, took off briskly walking toward the town.

* * *

Jack caught up with her in a few strides and started leading the way toward the bed and breakfast John was supposed to have spent the night at. He didn’t know the precise location, but John had mentioned the name at some point last night and thankfully, there were plenty of signs indicating the way for most of the B&Bs in the vicinity, so they found it pretty quickly. If he was being honest, he was relieved Peggy didn’t seem keen on breaking the silence, because he still didn’t know how to approach this whole situation with her.

The owner, a middle aged, balding man, opened up immediately upon their frantic knocks and asked, mildly bewildered: “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Peggy answered: “Listen, I know someone stopped by earlier, but we’re trying to find-”

“Oh, the errant groom. Of course you’re welcome to look again, but I don’t think you’re going to be very successful. His room is the first door on the right,” he said, moving aside to let them in and pointing down a corridor.

Peggy went in first, and Jack followed her only to find a mostly empty room save for John’s wedding tuxedo and shoes. The bed was made and seemed untouched.

“Mister… excuse me, what was your name again?” Jack asked.

“Smith.”

“Mr. Smith, do you remember hearing John coming back home at any point last night?“

“I honestly could not tell you, I sleep like a baby! So, even if he did, I wouldn’t have heard him for sure. I’m afraid I’m not of much help here.”

Suddenly, Peggy’s face lit up in realization.

“Jack. This room doesn’t have an en suite-bathroom.”

Mr. Smith seemed confused, but Jack understood right away.

“Of course! Mr. Smith, has anyone checked the bathroom?“

“You don’t think…”

Peggy stormed past Jack and towards a door at the end of the corridor marked “Washroom” and damn near broke it down.

She started laughing, and curious, Jack poked his head through the door as well. The scene really would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been for an entire wedding hanging in the balance.

There he was: still in yesterday’s clothes, John was sleeping peacefully on the bathroom floor in front of them. Peggy made short work of that and filled a glass of water standing on the sink with water and dumped it over his head. Sputtering, he awoke, blinked confusedly, then sat up jerkily, almost hitting his head on the sink.

“Fuck. On a scale of one to ten, how mad is Patricia?” he asked, jumping to his feet nimbly, apparently fully aware that he was extremely late to his wedding.

“Well, at least you didn’t get kidnapped,” mumbled Jack.

“What?” he asked, confusedly.

“Never mind. Can’t say she’s thrilled but if you get ready right now and show up, I’m sure she’ll forgive you eventually, say, right around your twentieth anniver-“

He was cut off by an elbow to his sides, courtesy of Peggy Carter.

“Anyway, put on that damn tuxedo, we’re going back to tell everyone you didn’t bail on the wedding in the meantime.”

And with that, they left him to his own devices. Once outside, Jack looked over at Peggy, who was wearing the most insufferable smirk on her face.

He rolled his eyes. “Anything you wanna get off your chest, Agent Carter?”

“Why, yes, Agent Thompson,” she gloated. “I told you so. Ahhh, that feels good. I should have never doubted myself.”

Jack had to admit that his earlier suspicion was rather ridiculous in hindsight, but of course he would never tell _her_ that, so his eloquent response in lieu of a witty retort was: “Whatever.”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but really was no more than half an hour of delay, the ceremony was set to start. Patricia had been a little mad, but mostly relieved, when they recapped the events for her.

Jack had taken a seat next to Peggy fairly close to the altar, so he could see that John’s bowtie was slightly wonky, betraying that he’d tied it in a hurry, but other than that, he looked ready to be married. He was nervously fidgeting with his cufflinks when a sudden hush fell over the castle’s chapel, and the organ began playing as Patricia entered the church on her father’s arm accompanied by her bridesmaids.

Patricia looked radiant, but for some reason, he found himself looking at Peggy instead of her, cataloguing her facial expression. It was full of admiration, love and joy for her longtime friend, and he wondered if he’d ever be on the receiving end of such a look.

A quick glance at John confirmed that he was utterly in love with his bride: He was gazing at her in awe as she walked down the aisle, and in that moment, it felt almost voyeuristic to witness such an intimate moment. For the first time in his life he let go of all pretense and admitted to himself that maybe, he yearned for a deeper connection akin to the one Patricia and John shared.

It seemed indulgent to entertain the thought – usually, he lived from day to day, never planning in the long term. A trait a lot of his generation, especially those who had been in the war, shared. While the war had ended years ago, it was still being waged in the minds of those who had seen it, in the way they lived, worked, and especially, loved. It was the reason he’d never bothered to properly decorate his apartment, leaving it bare save for the most essential pieces of furniture; the reason he spent most of his time at work, relentlessly chasing criminal after criminal; the reason he’d never thought of finding a nice girl to settle down with. In the face of the horrors of war it seemed inconsequential – he had trouble reconciling with the thought that it was all over, that he likely wasn’t going to die anytime soon, which necessitated some kind of planning for the future.

Again, his gaze was drawn to Peggy – a woman who understood many, if not all of these sentiments.

For the briefest moment, he gave in to temptation and let himself imagine his own wedding day with this fiercely intelligent, strong, determined, infuriating, beautiful woman. The thought of him being the one watching her walking down the aisle toward him as she was smiling at him, her gaze soft and full of love… It sent a pang of longing through him, sharp and urgent.

And there it was, the epiphany that he’d told John about last night. There was no more denying it, no taking it back.

He was desperately in love with Peggy Carter.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave a review, I would love to hear your thoughts!


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